


Old and Familiar (The Pillow Talk Remix)

by celli



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Horseman of Death and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day...and the motorcycle mechanic who makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old and Familiar (The Pillow Talk Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadySilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Old and Familiar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/627324) by [argentum_ls (LadySilver)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/argentum_ls). 



Richie was deep in Brady Bunch reruns when the door opened and a moment later slammed shut. He stuffed his customary "Hey, babe," back down and just watched as Adam (more Methos - the aftermath of a Quickening was hard to miss) stomped into the galley kitchen of their apartment, flung open the fridge, and grabbed a beer from the shelf. He drained it in one go. Richie watched the curve of Adam’s throat as he drank.

Adam finished and set the bottle on the counter. He looked over at Richie, a hint of challenge in his expression; Richie, in turn, channeled his inner Tessa and gave him her patented neutral-supportive look. Adam’s expression softened for a moment. He hesitated, then grabbed another beer from the fridge and headed for the master bedroom. A brief minute later, the shower came on. Richie turned off the TV, callously leaving Greg to his math problems. He had a whole family behind him; he’d be fine.

It took just a few minutes to rinse out his mac ‘n’ cheese bowl (food of 8 year olds, college students, and mechanics with no partner to make judgemental faces) and put the empty beer bottle in the recycle bin. Richie moved through the rest of the apartment, turning off lights and checking window locks. He also checked to make sure that someone (Adam) had remade the guest bed after Joe’s last visit; every once in a while Adam became Methos enough that Richie third-wheeled himself to the other bedroom until Adam came back to him, usually with a full-body apology. And Richie liked apology sex as much as the next guy, but he’d rather spend the entire night in their bed, sex or no.

He was mellowing in his old age. He grinned as he returned to the kitchen for a bottle of water and another of Adam’s beers.

By the time Adam stepped out of the bathroom, chucking a couple of pink-tinged towels in the hamper, Richie was ensconced on his side of the bed under a sheet that didn’t hide his nakedness in the slightest, paging through a historical novel with a suspiciously familiar black-haired man in a kilt on the cover. 

Normally, Adam would ask how the series Amanda called “the ongoing adventures of MacLeod’s penis” was going, or knock it out of Richie’s hand on his way to ripping the sheet off. Tonight, he hardly looked at either. He climbed into his side of the bed naked (as usual) with his hair immediately dampening the covers (not common). He reached for the duvet and pulled it up. He looked up at the ceiling and let out a short, tense breath.

Richie, as usual in these situations, acted on instinct. He slid over until he was flush against Adam’s side, yanking at the duvet until they were buried in it together. He bumped his arm under Adam’s, leaving their hands brushing each other, and laid his head on the pillow, cheek against Adam’s shoulder.

It took what felt like forever. Richie had mentally sorted through all the parts he wanted to order for the shop tomorrow by the time Adam finally let out a real breath and leaned back in to him. Richie muffled a relieved smile.

“So, no picking up and moving across the country?” he asked.

“No, Richie,” Adam said with a familiar amused patience.

“Too bad. I’d picked out our next jobs. I figure you could use a turn through med school--”

“Again?”

“ _Again_ again. Think of all the new technologies they have now! You could do surgeries with lasers, man.” Adam snorted. Richie smirked. “And I could run one of those summer camps for teenagers you read about in books. Martial arts, maybe, or acting - I’ve got enough experience faking my own death, I would be amazing.”

“I don’t doubt it. But no need for it today.” Adam’s shoulders paused on their way to relaxing. “Just the usual, I guess.”

Richie nudged Adam up on his side so Richie could wrap himself around as much of Adam as possible.”I love you.”

Adam lifted Richie’s hand to his lips and dropped it back to his chest, leaving their fingers together,

“Tessa used to make me hot chocolate when I was having a bad day,” Richie said. “Only she was Tessa, so it would have some kind of...Frenchness to it. I’ve never been able to figure out what was in it.”

“That doesn’t seem to fit the stories I’ve heard from MacLeod.”

“Duncan wasn’t there every second. And he _never_ saw this, but when I was having the worst of days, she would let me have mac ‘n’ cheese out of a box.”

“That terrifying orange concoction you eat sometimes?”

“Once an American teenager, always an American teenager,” Richie said. “Kind of literally.”

Adam laughed. Richie turned a mental fistbump into a kiss to the back of Adam’s neck.

“It’s funny,” Adam said slowly. “So much I grew up with I’ve forgotten entirely, and what I haven’t civilization has abandoned. But one thing in particular has been vital to humanity as long as I’ve been a part of it.”

“What?” Richie asked, unexpectedly breathless.

Adam wormed one arm out from under the covers and grabbed the beer off the nightstand. “Hops, my love, are as eternal as Immortals. I have been drinking some form of beer as long as I can remember.” He drank slowly, then looked at Richie over the bottle. “It really does make me feel...I suppose comforted.”

Richie took it from him and sipped. “I see your point, although I still would like that French hot chocolate.”

“Mm,” Adam said, and took the beer back. Richie watched his lips around the bottle.

“There’s also some ways I could comfort you that don’t relate to either of our childhoods. Thank God.”

“You don’t say,” Adam said.

“I’ll need that mouth free first,” Richie said, and laughed when Adam reached behind him and dropped the beer on the nightstand. He pulled Adam down until the duvet covered them both and offered all the comfort his body could manage.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to A for the beta and M for the cheerleading!
> 
> Stan Kirsch runs a well-respected acting studio in Hollywood, and Peter Wingfield is somewhere in the intern/resident stage of his medical studies. I couldn't resist.


End file.
